Page 2 of Rush

“I thought he’d come.”

Broderick leans in closer. “Who?”

I glance up at him, my heart splintering all over again when I see the concern in his eyes—so open, soreal.

Unlike Alex, who was always so hard to read.

“My birthday,” I whisper, the words chaff like sandpaper in my throat. “He didn’t show.”

Broderick’s brows pull together, confused. “Alex.”

I nod.

“And then...then he—” I choke on a sob, pressing a hand to my chest, a weak attempt at trying to stop my heart from breaking all over again. “He broke up with me.”

There it is. No denying it, Alex ended it. He didn’t want me.

Maybe he never really did.

The thought rears its ugly head, and my deepest, darkest insecurity manifests.

Broderick stills, but recovers quickly as he continues to rub my back gently, the warmth a salve to my wounded heart.

“That jackass.”

I stare down at the floor, my fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of my shirt.

“I thought he was...I thought we were...” I swallow the lump in my throat. “And now he’s gone. Just—like that. Like I meant nothing to him.”

Maybe I am nothing.

Broderick is quiet, giving me the space to get it off my chest.

“And I hate myself,” I cry, tears running hot and fast now. “Because even now—after everything—I still want him to walk through that door and take it all back.”

Broderick exhales, slow and controlled, and I feel his hand tighten slightly on my back, like he’s trying to hold himself together for my sake.

I glance up at him, my eyes burning. “Why wasn’t I enough, Broderick? What’s so wrong with me that no one wants me?” It comes out broken. Soft and damaged.

“Hey…don’t say things like that.”

He heaves a sigh and looks away for a moment before looking back at me, steady and fierce in a way that makes my chest ache.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he says, his voice sharp with conviction. “Nothing. You hear me?”

But he doesn’t know the truth. There is something wrong with me, that’s why no one ever wants me, why my father didn’t want me, why Alex doesn’t want me.

I shake my head, looking away, but he gently catches my chin, turning me back to face him.

“You are enough.Morethan enough. If that asshole can’t see that—that’shisloss.”

I blink, stunned at the fire in his voice, unable to truly process what he’s said in my drunken, devastated state.

“Clearly not enough for him to stay.”

“He’s…” Broderick hesitates. “A pompous ass.”

“Yeah, but he wasmypompous ass.” I shrug, defeated.